Twoscore and five of men they rode,
Along the mountain hills.

Lowborn and high all cowards fled,
Across the frozen rills.

The creeping climbing crawling scum,
Of the nether worlds of old.

Chased the ragged refugees,
Across the lands of cold.

They flee the sacking of Veraleigh,
The shining port along the sea.

They ran like rats from shadows cold,
They left to die men good and bold.

Few were forewarned of the coming fall,
Maybe five and twenty of men in all.

They packed their bags and steeled their hearts,
And left the rest to the gathering dark.

A score was met along the road,
Sold-swords and men of little heart.

The cowards warned them; to gain their swords,
Togather they fled the Shades of Bjorn

But none can flee the Doom of Men,
Not the skilled, nor strongest lord.

Twoscore and five of men were found,
Along the mountain hills.

Lowborn and high the cowards died,
Blood warmed the frozen rills.